RightWing, Pacifist
by Sabertron15
Summary: A decepticon watches a vicious circle and once again wonders why he became a ‘Con in the first place. Hopefully better than it sounds. Oneshot. I'm sure someone could come up with a better title than mine. lol.


Hey! it's been a very long time since I last posted anything but i currently have a heck load of revision and exams 2 do + helpin my sis prepare for her baby and decorating her house 4 her, lol....Btw this was just a very quick oneshot i wrote just to keep myself in the 'writing' mood. Sooo it most likely has a ten ton of spelling mistakes among other but ....I dont know like i said just a quick thing to keep me going with my other stories....

also Joor = 1 earth day.

* * *

One of the first things I learnt at the academy was '_Shoot first, ask questions later'_ the second was to never show mercy to your enemies...or your comrades.

These 'rules' were, of course, one of the only ways to survive on the Nemesis.

I cast a quick glance around the room, at least fifteen others were staring at the same scene I was. One we had all watched at least a thousand times before.

A small whimper drew the attention of all to the quivering mass of metal that was once my Air commander. Reduced once more to begging and pleading with the silver mech, currently towering over him, to spare his life and that he was sorry. Pathetic to many in the ranks but to me it was truly pitiful; to see someone as scientifically renowned as he once was, become nothing more than a whimpering coward. Yes, it was a sorry sight for anyone to see.

I will never understand why he keeps coming back, surely if parts of you were twisted, maimed and ripped off by someone you would steer clear of said person?

But not in this case; this vicious circle that has somehow caught all of us within its deadly clutches and makes us re-watch the same scenes unfold again and again.

I watched in pretend interest as energon leaked from a newly torn wing, fighting the shudder of revulsion threatening to rack my frame. I catch my wing-mate giving me a curious glance and I sneer, once more pretending to take pleasure in seeing the remaining wing wrenched from the SIC.

He looks away and I give a mental sigh of relief; what would my wing-mate say, I wonder? If he knew that I wanted to run out of this room, to get away from this disgusting performance?

He would probably laugh at me; tell me to stop messing around. He thinks everything is a joke. Even when I say I'm going to leave and never come back he just grins...and that is why I trust him.

I trust him because he doesn't take me seriously and because of that I know he would never report me, brand me a traitor and have me executed.

The silver tyrant cackles manically before firing a single shot at the fallen seeker, sending him offline.

I cannot begin to describe the relief I feel with that shot, knowing that I'm spared this sight for at least another joor. I have long since grown weary of this routine scene, the repeated words and actions of our so called 'Commanders '.

I turn away, one of the first to do so, now that the _'show'_ was over there was nothing more to see.

Unless you wanted to watch Hook and his brother's picking up the parts of the mangled Air commander, and _my_ wing leader.

I have never enjoyed watching or causing pain and being forced to view another senseless, brutal beating of a 'comrade' was enough to make me want to heave.

I could feel my fuel tank churning already, I had to get out of this energon stained room. I push my way violently towards the door, nearly knocking over my wing-mate in my haste to leave.

He calls after me but I ignore him, more concerned with getting out of this _room_.

The doors open with a low humming sound and I take the chance to run out and into the corridor, leaving behind a confused and annoyed wing-mate; deeming myself far enough away I slowed down into a fast-paced walk, slowly taking in my surroundings. I sighed, as I recognized where I was, somehow I had managed to run myself right into insecticon territory, Just my luck.

I catch a flash of blue and spin around to confront the intruder only to come face to face with my own reflection. The stained window did nothing to stop my dull, tarnished blue frame contrasting sharply with the inky, blackness of the unforgiving ocean outside.

Two purple insignias sat mockingly on my wings, I scowled at them. Those brands have caused me nothing but grief from the joor I got them. Sometimes I wonder...

I look up from the symbols to catch cold, tired optics in an emotionless gaze.

Yes, it makes me wonder, why I'm still a decepticon.

* * *

My first take on Thundercracker as a character, I believe that they (Hasbro) had such a great chance of exploring a decepticon who didn't want to be a decepticon and they completely ignored the potential TC had as a character in the cartoon...


End file.
